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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842626">Gone.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_dear_holmes/pseuds/my_dear_holmes'>my_dear_holmes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Sherlock one-shots [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, First Time, John Watson Has Feelings, John Watson Has Trust Issues, M/M, POV First Person, POV John Watson, Trust Issues, coming up with a title is hard :/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 22:55:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_dear_holmes/pseuds/my_dear_holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I always thought you were going to leave me. I thought it was just a matter of when, and why, and how.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Sherlock one-shots [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gone.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I always thought you were going to leave me. I thought it was just a matter of when, and why, and how. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When? Hopefully sooner rather than later. That way I wouldn't become attached. You'd just be one more person to walk out of my life. Why? Because I wasn't worthy of you. You're, well, you. You're brilliant, a genius. You deserve someone like Irene, or Moriarty even. Yes, their psychopaths, but at least they're your equal. You can amuse each other with your games. Never be bored if you were with someone like that. But me? I'm just some broken army doctor. How? Amicably, I would hope. I'd hope you would soften the blow. Maybe we would remain friends. Send each other a Christmas card. Would you even know when Christmas was if I didn't remind you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You would say something like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry John, but this just isn't working out, this whole flat share thing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry John, but I need more space for my experiments.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry John, but you're just not enough for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You can tell I've thought about this, can't you. Anyone could, not just you. It's probably plastered on my face for all to see. The fear that I let show every now and again. It's gone round and round in my head, practically from the day I met you. It sounds awful like that doesn't it. Weird. But when I first saw you, it was like an instinct. You were so thin and so pale, I thought you might collapse under your own weight. No, John. Don't try and paint it as some selfless act of pity. I didn't move in just because you looked underfed. I moved in because I needed someone - anyone - who I could depend on. You probably weren't the best choice for the role, considering the way we live. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's not fair. You've always been there when I need you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When was the first time I thought about it? Probably when we met at 221b. You weren't there to start with, and I thought you'd changed your mind. Wouldn't blame you. We’d spoken for five minutes, and I didn’t exactly sell myself as fun or easy to live with. Neither did you, I suppose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I've got to say, I cared even then. You were my one chance, and I thought I had let you slip away. It was strange. I felt so attached to you already. And when you weren’t there, it hurt. Makes me sound a bit pathetic, really. Like I was stood up for a first date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you turned up after all. You arrived and it was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt that same feeling every time you do something brilliant. How could I ever compare to something like that? How can you put up with my averageness?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then you really did leave me. You left me for two fucking years, and you didn't even say goodbye. Well, you did. You said the words. Goodbye, John. That's what you said. But it wasn't really enough, was it. It wasn't a proper goodbye. Not after a friendship like ours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn't believe it at first. I'd tricked myself into thinking you were staying. That you were playing a trick, or that it was all for a case. I suppose in reality it was all of those things. But I thought you would jump up, dust of your coat and run off, laughing about my ridiculous emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn't be gone. You just couldn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You came back though. Despite all the odds you came back. And just in time, too. I don’t know if I could have waited much longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You said you didn’t want to leave me. That you did it for my own good, to protect me. A noble sacrifice. My heart saw it that way, but my brain didn’t. It only focussed on the leaving part, and the anger, and sadness, and grief you caused, not the fact you came back. I’m working on that though. And I’m getting better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I thought you were going to leave, that first time I kissed you. We were sitting on the sofa, just watching telly. Can't even remember what it was. Wasn't really paying attention. I was concentrating on inching closer to you. God, it felt like hours until I was close enough for our legs to touch. But I had to do it slowly, give you plenty of warning. If I did it slowly, it would give you time to object, to shuffle away, to make a weak excuse and pack up completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you didn’t. I pressed my lips to yours so softly, barely brushing them, so you could easily push me away. But again, you didn’t. In fact, you kissed back. You pressed our lips harder together, and when I opened my mouth, you did too. Our hands roamed equally across chests, through hair, round waists. We didn’t go any further that night, though god knows I wanted to. But I didn’t want to push you too far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stayed yet again when I brought up the topic of sex. I would have been willing to wait for as long as necessary. Forever even. I already knew that. It meant a lot when you said that you were ready, though. Not just because I was horny. But because I wanted every part of you that I could, to know and love as much as possible. And yeah, okay, because I’d thought about it so many times that I wanted that daydream to be real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the next morning. God, I was so relieved when you were still there, practically lying on top of me, limbs tangles. I never wanted to move again. We had slept in the same bed before of course, in a romantic and platonic sense, but that was different. I couldn’t say how, but it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just was.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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